Saturday, January 13, 2018

the last book I ever read (A Horse Walks into a Bar: A Novel by David Grossman, excerpt four)

from A Horse Walks into a Bar: A Novel by David Grossman:

I rummage through my pockets, my wallet. A few years ago I would never have left home without a notebook. Little orange notebooks slept in bed with us in case, while I was falling asleep or dreaming, I conjured up an argument I could work into a ruling, or a salient metaphor, or an idea for an eye-opening quote (I was somewhat notorious for those). I find three pens but not one scrap of paper. I motion at the waitress and she brings me a small stack of green napkins, flapping them in her hand from afar and smiling stupidly.

Actually, it was a pretty sweet smile.

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